Antics
by holleyriddle
Summary: Hermione has lost her Potions book, which is quite different for her since she has never lost any book in her life. What will she do? She doesn't want to look like a fool in class. Set after Deathly Hallows, AU  Snape is not dead .


Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Author's Note: I have never been much of a Snape/Hermione shipper, but one of my friends is. I told her I might try a one-shot honoring this couple – it has been very challenging and I am not sure that I pulled it off, but, I had fun! Obviously, this is AU – set after _Deathly Hallows_, Snape is still alive, and Harry and Hermione have gone back to Hogwarts to complete their schooling to become Aurors. Ron isn't in the story, so I suppose he stayed at home to take a year off, or whatever your imagination fancies. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Hermione rummaged through her bag, tears filling her eyes. She had searched the entire Gryffindor common room and girls' dormitory, but she had come up empty-handed. She had never lost a school book before – come to think of it, she had never lost any book. Harry tried to soothe her as he waited patiently outside the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Come on, everyone loses things, Hermione. I've lost loads of things, especially books. It's nothing to beat yourself up over."

"Harry, I have no idea where it could be! And where am I going to find another book? I'm sure the used ones are all tatty and no good. Oh, it's got to be here somewhere…"

"Why don't you go to the Potions classroom and look? Maybe you left it there, or maybe you could find a used one and look through it to see if it's decent," Harry told her. "C'mon, I'll walk with you there."

"Oh, all right," Hermione sighed. She did not relish the thought of going to the Potions room. Although their old differences with Snape had been cleared up, he was still not their favorite person in the world, and he certainly was not the professor one sought out for delightful conversations. She just hoped he would not be lurking about – maybe they would get lucky, and he would be elsewhere.

The two of them walked together in silence, the castle growing more depressing as they descended to the dungeons. They passed Snape's office – the heavy, wooden door with the cold silver plaque that read "SEVERUS SNAPE, POTIONS MASTER" in large lettering, was closed. Harry hoped he was in there. Luckily, the Potions classroom was empty. Hermione stopped abruptly in the doorway, causing Harry to bump into her.

"I don't know where to go. Where would they keep the right used books?"

"Er, they're usually all on that shelf by the desk. Here…" He led her over to a dilapidated bookshelf in the front corner of the room and bent down to look at the seventh year books. Only one remained on the shelf. "Sorry, Hermione, but it looks like you've only got one choice." He pulled the book out and handed it to her.

She hesitated before opening it, then began to flip through it. Her expression quickly turned to one of disgust. "Ugh! How could anybody abuse a book like this?" she asked.

"Dunno." Harry put his hands in his pockets, guilty of the kind of abuse to school books Hermione abhorred – bent, torn pages, drinks spilled on them, words crossed out here and there, a scribbling every page or two.

"Look, Harry! Almost this entire page is scratched out. How can I tell what the real instructions say? Oh no…" She looked about to cry again, and Harry struggled more, wishing he could comfort her somehow. He was reluctant to give up his own book; Snape still graded harder than ever, and it was imperative for him to be able to read the instructions. It was not just about grades anymore – he could not become an Auror with mediocre marks. He sighed and scratched his head, wishing he could be of more help.

He stood with her for quite some time, trying to help her decipher the writing on various pages before he gave up. "Look, I promised Ginny I would meet her for dinner. Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah… you go on, Harry. I'll see you later."

He smiled gratefully at her for understanding and walked off quickly, not wanting to be late. Hermione listened to his footsteps as they went down the hall, up some stairs, and away where she could no longer hear them. She could hear no one else moving. It was quite a creepy feeling, being in the dungeon all by oneself. But she wanted to sort out this problem. Frustrated, she looked through the book more, deciding it was totally useless with everything scratched out and written over. Tucking the book under her arm, she went slowly to Snape's office door and knocked quietly.

Her heart jumped in fear as the door began to move, and her dreaded Potions Master stood before her. His expression flickered briefly (in surprise?) before turning unreadable again. "Granger," he greeted her softly. His tone was not unpleasant, but she did not feel at ease.

"Professor," she began, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I seem to have… mis-misplaced my book." She knew he was going to make her feel like a fool. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Did you think to try the shelf of used books in the classroom?" No matter how he spoke, he still sounded cold. Maybe he couldn't help it.

"I did, sir, but I only found this," she said, holding up the horrible used book in her shaking hand and blushing. "It's got so much writing in it, I can't see the original instructions anymore –"

"Surely, Miss Granger, someone as studious as yourself should be able to figure out how to construct and brew a potion without going by the directions word-for-word. Come now."

"I… I am pretty sure I will be needing the book," she said slowly, feeling very stupid, just as she had predicted she would. Her face was growing hotter by the second.

"Pity."

"S-sorry, sir?"

"What? You expect me to pull a perfect book out of thin air? If you have neglected your own book so much as to lose it, I cannot help you. You either use what is on the shelf, or you figure it out yourself."

"Y-yes, sir…"

"Good day, then, Miss Granger." He closed the door in her face. She was still too devastated to move quite yet.

_He is _such_ an asshole_, she thought. _And to think we are making a conscious effort to _like _him. Ugh, I've never met a more miserable person in my life…_

She turned and trudged up the stairs from the dungeon, the battered book still in hand. She calmed down gradually as she got farther away from Snape's gloomy office. He was quite unnerving with his arrogance and sarcasm – she suspected he could have that effect on anyone, not just her. Still, she felt ashamed for nearly falling to pieces in front of him.

She decided to skip dinner in favor of deciphering her replacement book, a task that she was sure would take a considerable amount of time. She shook her head as she looked at the spidery handwriting that covered the pages, vowing to never lose another book ever again.

* * *

Later in the week, it was much to Hermione's dismay that Snape assigned the Draught of Peace in class.

"Some of you were assigned this in fifth year, for those of you who may not remember," Snape told the class, "but most of you failed miserably." His eyes rested on Harry for a moment before he continued, "You will work until the end of class and hand in your work, finished or not. So, perfectionists," his eyes rested this time on Hermione, "I suggest that you don't spend too much time agonizing over one particular step or ingredient. You will use this class wisely, and there is to be absolutely _no_ talking. All work is individual. Now, go."

Hermione looked down at her book, frustrated. She had memorized most of the instructions from the last time she had made it, but could not clearly remember how much of each ingredient to put into the potion. The amount of powdered moonstone was entirely scratched out. She nudged Harry with her elbow and pointed at her book, indicating she wanted to look on with him. He obliged and slid his book over so she could see it.

Snape had been watching from his desk and stood as soon as he saw this. He wandered slowly over to where the two of them sat and gently pushed Harry's book back toward him where Hermione could not see. "All work is individual," he repeated quietly.

"But, sir, my book –" Hermione began.

"Is what you will use," Snape interrupted. "We already discussed the matter, Granger."

Blinking back tears, Hermione looked over her book again and tried to see through all the scribblings. Satisfied, Snape turned and went back to his desk to sit.

"Sorry," Harry whispered to her.

She shook her head and decided to just guess at the amounts. An hour later, Harry's was already simmering – the first time this year he had finished an assignment before her. She bit her lip and tried to ignore the ticking of the clock; class was almost over, and she knew she had to add the finishing touches quickly.

She stirred her potion before she added the last ingredient, hellebore, and reduced the heat to allow it to simmer. Instead of turning turquoise like Harry's, it turned dark purple. "Oh no," she whispered to herself, knowing this meant that her Draught of Peace was no good.

Everyone was gathering their books together to go when Snape came by to collect their potions. He took Harry's without a word, though he noticed its perfect color. He smirked as he looked at Hermione's and muttered, "Pity."

"Sir, please, if I could just redo mine when I find my book or get a better one –"

"No, this is the only attempt you will have. No exceptions," he told her simply, and turned to walk away.

She tossed the useless potions book into her bag and stalked out of the classroom, not caring whether or not Harry followed.

He half-jogged to catch up with her once out of the classroom. "Hermione, wait!" he called.

She stopped in her tracks and sighed, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment. She allowed him to catch up and started walking swiftly again.

"Really, Hermione, don't worry about it," he said. "It's just one bum assignment; it can't count that badly against you."

She stopped again and glared at him. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Well, I figured you'd just be worried about marks –"

"It's not all about marks, Harry!" she said. "It's about Snape making a fool of me! You heard him in there – and if anyone else had been trying to share a book, he would have let them. It's only because it's _me_ that he's being such an… arse." She hesitated to speak badly of any teacher, even Snape – but she thought he really deserved it this time.

"He has his fun," Harry mumbled, at a loss for anything else comforting to say. A group of fourth-year girls was staring relentlessly at them and giggling. "Come on…" he said to Hermione, grabbing her hand and leading her away from them.

"How do I get a new book?" she asked. "It's not that easy for me just to go back to London and buy one –"

"Take mine next class. We can trade off," he suggested.

"He'll know."

"How? He's not going to come by and check to see who is using what book –"

"He'll know when I start making everything correctly again and all of your work is lousy. And, I dunno, Snape is just… _creepy_ like that. He always knows things somehow, just like how he was watching and came over as soon as you let me look at your book."

Harry shrugged. "It might work for a little while, at least."

"I dunno, Harry…"

The two of them paused, and finally Harry said, "I'll let you make up your own mind, then."

"Yeah. Thanks, Harry. I guess I better get to my next class. See you."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Hermione sat through Potions class painfully as she failed at making Blood-Replenishing Potion, Muffling Draught, and Anti-Paralysis Potion. On the day she made the latter, Snape held her back after class.

"It has come to my attention, Granger, that you are in desperate need of Remedial Potions."

"Professor, I don't think it's my potion-making ability – it's my book –"

"You will meet me in my office after lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays until you have improved. Will this cooperate with the rest of your schedule?"

"Yes, but –"

"Good. You may go."

* * *

The following Tuesday, Hermione ate nothing at lunch, too anxious over her meeting with Snape. She watched bleakly as Harry and Ginny joked affectionately with each other across the table. Now she knew how Harry had felt when he had been around her and Ron the past couple of years.

"Oh, Hermione, eat_ something_," Ginny prodded her. "It's just Snape. He isn't that scary."

"Has he taken up embarrassing you every chance he gets as his new hobby?" she fired back at Ginny.

Harry exchanged a helpless look with Ginny, and the two of them were silent. Angry at herself for spoiling their happy mood, she got up to leave the table, mumbling that she didn't want to be late.

She arrived at the dungeons ten minutes early and noticed Snape's office door was open, but she did not go in. She did not want to have to suffer an extra ten minutes with him, so she decided to sit on the floor in the corridor and busied herself with homework from another class as she waited.

She jumped at his soft voice sounded nearby. "Time, Granger."

_So _creepy, she thought as she saw him standing a few feet away from her. She hadn't even heard his footsteps. _Perhaps I was just really absorbed in my work_, she decided as she stood up and followed him to his office.

"Sit." He gestured at the chair in front of his desk. She obeyed, and he took his place across from her.

Once settled, he was looking at her expectantly, which confused her. _He_ was the one who had called her here – surely he should speak first? When he didn't, she took the initiative. "Sir, you know, my problem is not that I _misunderstand_ subject matter –"

"Really? Your marks lately indicate otherwise."

"I've told you, my book –"

"Let me see it."

She opened her bag and got it out, then handed it to him. He flipped through it briefly, a small, odd smile forming on his lips as he regarded it. "You have no idea where _your_ book is, and this is the secondhand one, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Allow me to enlighten you, Miss Granger." He closed the book gently and slid it across the desk, back to her. "_This_ is your book. You mistakenly left it in my classroom a few weeks ago. I suppose you were so absorbed in talking to your dear friend Potter that you neglected to remember it. Who knows what else you would have forgotten if the Weasley boy had been around, hmm?"

"Wh-what? I don't… unders—" Hermione began, confused and blushing madly over his teasing her about Ron.

"This is your book, with my own… _modifications_."

"I… I…"

"_I_ marked it up to make it indecipherable. I placed it on the shelf and took away all the other secondhand books, knowing you would come looking for some once you discovered it was gone," he explained impatiently, as if she should have already figured all of this out.

"B-but… _why_…?" she asked, flustered.

"Tsk, tsk. I suppose book smarts do not amount to much in real life, eh, Granger?"

She was silent, not knowing what to say anymore.

"For one, I did it to stop you from being an _insufferable_ know-it-all every class. I was sick of you turning in perfect assignments that I could not criticize, never mind how badly I wanted to," he began, slowly getting out of his chair to stand beside her. "And, for another, a red face is very becoming on you."

"_What_!"

He placed his hand on her burning cheek. She paused, not sure if she wanted to run, or cry, or scream, or…

Wait a minute. She felt tingly, _happy_, the way she had felt when Ron first kissed her. Only, this was a little more intense – maybe because she was so scared. But her fear was starting to subside as her understanding grew.

He had wanted to get her alone. That was the entire reason for this, despite his jibe about her being a know-it-all.

"Professor, I am not entirely sure that this is –" she broke off, unsure of how to finish her sentence. She didn't think she wanted to finish it.

He removed his hand from her face and backed off, understanding. At least he knew her true feelings now.

"I didn't want you to stop… touching me…" she whispered.

"Are you quite sure about that?" he asked softly, looking into her eyes – for once, not coldly.

She took his hand in hers and placed it back on her cheek. He stroked her face, then her hair, quite slowly, to give her time to object if she still wanted to. However, she made no indication that she objected. Her brown eyes still looked full of disbelief, but pleasure at the same time.

She stood up to face him, nearly as tall as he was. Her face was dangerously close to his – he would not have to lean far to reach her lips, and he knew he could not resist for long unless she outright told him "no." Clearly, she was waiting for him to initiate something.

Still slightly unsure of himself, he asked, "Miss Granger?"

"Yes." Her answer was final, definite, indicative of her whole understanding of what he wanted. He leaned forward and brushed her lips with his before she pulled away unexpectedly, a coy smile on her face. "Professor, does this mean that I didn't fail my last assignments?"

He chuckled, a sound she wasn't used to hearing. "No professor has ever given you failing marks in your entire life. Though I'd be flattered to be the first, it would not be fair of me to do so. I've already gotten what I wanted."

"And… what was that?" she asked, very curious.

"A few moments of you seeing me as more than your supercilious Potions Master."

She leaned forward to press her lips against his, knowing she would never think of him the same way again.


End file.
